


Bandit Prospects

by citrineelephant



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Betrayal, Kidnapping, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24993448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrineelephant/pseuds/citrineelephant
Summary: Zane is sold out by his friends, but it does not exactly go to plan.
Kudos: 9





	1. Dead Drop

Zane’s head was pushed into the dirt by the Siren’s astral fist as she wrapped the duct tape around his wrists. He grunted past the tape over his mouth, biting down on the cloth that had been shoved inside first. The man was angry and hurt, betrayed by his friends. He should have known better than to let his guard down around the other Vault Hunters. He trusted them and they turned around and stabbed him in the back.

“How much are Hyperion paying?” FL4K asked as they held the operative’s legs still. 

“Fifty billion,” Moze laughed, looking into Zane’s eyes as he glared up at her. 

Amara turned on the man’s back and began to wrap the tape around his ankles, “Let’s see if they pay. If not, there’s any other living thing in the six galaxies willing to buy.”

Zane felt the dread overtaking him. His head was spinning. Why was he so fucking stupid to have trusted them? Now look at him… Bruised, bloody, beaten… Betrayed.

The Siren moved up to below his knees, wrapping tight. Then, above the knees, even tighter. FL4K released his legs as soon as Amara was done binding them, letting them drop to the floor. The woman pushed herself off of the man’s body and stood on her knees next to him, using one of her fists to grab a fistful of his white locks.

Zane grunted as Amara pulled his head back, beginning to wrap more tape around his chest to restrict his movements further, wrapping him up like a mummy. 

“Can’t have you escaping on us, Zane,” the Siren smiled, releasing his hair.

The operative fell, his cheek smashing into the ground.

Ouch.

“Let’s get him to the dead drop,” Amara turned towards the others.

///

“The money, then you get the operative,” the Siren demanded, holding Zane and ready to do the transfer.

“It’s all there,” the Hyperion representative motioned for his lackeys to toss the series of cases towards the Vault Hunters.

Amara paused for a moment, observing the Hyperion personnel and the cases of cash before her. Then, she pushed Zane forward. He could not catch himself as he fell into the sand, grunting loudly.  
The Siren motioned for the Vault Hunters to grab the cases and check the money. Sure enough, it was a lot of cash. They did not have time to count all fifty billion dollars, but Amara nodded, seeming satisfied.

Zane looked towards the Hyperion personnel, then back to his old friends. How he’d fair to Hyperion, it did not matter. He had been their prisoner before. Whatever they had in store for him, he could handle it. As for his betrayal, oh, he had something brewing for them once he had the chance. 

But could he…?

Of fucking course he could.

Rage boiled inside Zane, but also dread. Tears started to fill his vision, but he blinked them away. 

Not now, no.

“It was nice doing business with you, Vault Hunters,” the leader of the Hyperion group smiled, motioning towards his lackeys.

“The same to you,” the Siren smiled as she pulled out her pistol, firing into the head of the man she did the deal with.

Bullets went flying. Zane’s eyes shot open as he watched the sudden storm, quickly pulling his body into himself, doing his best to defend himself, hoping not to catch a stray bullet… or an intentional one. He then squeezed his eyes shut.

It was loud as the guns went off like fireworks. The operative had his head ducked, not seeing what was happening, but soon, it died down. It felt like forever, the few seconds that passed. But after a moment, he lifted his head back up and saw the aftermath.

Bodies.

All around him were bodies. 

Zane looked towards the Hyperion side and saw nothing but blood and unmoving corpses. Then he turned towards the Vault Hunters.

Much the same, save for the Siren.

Amara was laying on her back, gasping and spitting blood from her mouth, eyes wide and staring at the man. There was only one emotion in her face.

Fear.

Zane felt it, too. He felt a flurry of emotions. Rage, satisfaction, fear, dread… And sadness. 

Seeing his old friends dead and dying… He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But he just watched as the Siren’s eyes grew dim. 

And then he was alone.

///

Zane struggled in his binds, but it was no use. The duct tape was too strong for him to writhe out of. He was stuck. Alone. In the middle of nowhere.

This is where he dies, isn’t it?

All alone. Left with only his thoughts and the sight of the dust.

Why did this have to happen? 

Why?

Why would they betray him? 

Now they were dead and he was as good as. 

The operative felt the emotions suddenly explode within him. A scream. Then another. Then nothing but muffled, agonized screams. He bashed his head against the ground as the tears started flowing. Never had he been so… vulnerable. 

Never had he felt so alone.


	2. Exposure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane is left in the dust to die, until he gets a "lucky" break.

How long had it been, out in the hot desert, tied up and alone? 

Zane felt the heat exhaustion kicking in. He was baking in the sand, his mouth growing drier by the second. God, he was so thirsty. So hot…

The operative had long since given up struggling in his binds. It was useless and it only tired him out. He was going to die there from exposure. Spending his final moments unable to move or scream. Surrounded by corpses.

Zane’s head was spinning. Why did this happen? Why did they betray him?

Why did everyone betray him?

His thoughts wandered back to when he was just a boy. How his brothers tried to drown him. How they tried to shoot him, stab him, maim him, anything. They did not hate him, but they wanted him dead. 

Everyone wanted him dead.

And now, everyone was getting it.

Who would miss him?

His spouses? 

That was not true love. They married for anything but love. How many times had he gotten hitched in some casino city anyway? When was the last time he spoke to any of them?

Hyperion would come looking for their employees long after he perished in the desert heat. That is, if the rakks and skags had not eaten the corpses by then.

And right on time, too.

There it was before him, a skag. 

Then another.

And another. 

This was it. It was not the heat that would kill him, but the skags. So many corpses for them, but he knew they would come for him first. They always enjoyed a live meal.

The roar sent a panic to rise in the operative. 

Maybe getting eaten alive was not such a bad way to go… No, no, it was.

Zane did not even hear the technical before it hit the group of skags, dragging their corpses through the sand. 

Oh no. 

Bandits. His brain worked quick. Fifty billion dollars laying in the sands and a living Vault Hunter wrapped up just for the taking. If they stopped, if they had noticed him… 

Zane “Lucky” Flynt. Lucky being one of his various middle names. He sure did not feel very lucky. 

And then the technical turned around. 

Great.

Zane could not do a damned thing. All he could do was watch in horror as the bandits pulled up to the scene and get out from the vehicle.

“What do we have here, fellas?” a tall beefcake of a man stepped from the driver’s seat, looking over the scene.

Play dead. Yeah, that might work.

Zane closed his eyes, laying as still as possible as the posse inspected the scene. 

“This is cash! Boss, this is cash!” one of the bandits was clearly shocked, but excited. 

“Cash, huh? A deal gone wrong, I’d guess,” the voice of the muscular man spoke, “Ah, a hostage situation?”

Zane felt the dread grow in his stomach. 

Just play dead.

Just play dead.

“Check to see if they’re all dead,” the head of the group spoke again. 

Footsteps. All around. 

“Dead.” 

“Dead.”

“This one’s dead.”

“Lights out for this one.”

“Oh, what’s this? A Siren?” 

“A Siren?”

“She’s not breathing.”

“Forget her then.” 

“I don’t see any bulletholes in this guy.”

Fuck.

Zane felt a soft kick to his side. 

“I think this one’s still alive.”

Fuck!

Zane kept his eyes closed, hoping in vain they would leave him be, but as another set of footsteps approached him…

“Check,” the voice of the leader approached.

The operative heard the cracking sound of knees bending as a set of fingers pressed against his throat. 

His heart was beating so fast…

There was a silence for a moment, before the man was hoisted up by his hair. 

Why did everyone keep doing that?

Zane’s eyes shot open, grimacing from the pain in his scalp and the look of the bandits. His head was lifted into the air while the leader breathed into his face. God, his breath stank. 

“Hold on, I know this one. This is Zane Flynt… These… Are Vault Hunters! Hah!”

The look of a deer in the headlights.

The leader roared in laughter, “Bastards sold you out, huh? Shame, that hurts.”

Zane’s breathing picked up more than it already was.

“Well, load him and the cash up,” the muscular bandit dropped the operative’s head back in the dust, “Looks like we have a new toy, fellas.”


	3. Casual Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane is loaded up and taken to the bandit encampment.

“New toy.”

The phrase reminded Zane of his brother, Captain Flynt. He had been under his brothers’ instruments of torment before and had seen how brutal the big guy was. The Vault Hunters who took down Handsome Jack told him and his “friends” about his brother and he shared stories to them. 

God, he was so tired.

The blindfold came next, wrapped snug over his eyes. They kept him taped up and tossed him in the back of the technical with the rest of the bandits watching over him. Mostly to make sure he would not fall out of the back. 

“We’re rich, oh man, we’re rich!” one voice cheered.

“What are you gonna get after we get our shares?” 

“Meat sauna!”

“Diamond skag!”

“Blood.”

Just blood, apparently?

What else would a bandit want anyway? Torture, blood, guts, whatever. As long as something suffered. 

And now Zane was on the menu of torment. 

“What about the pretty boy here?”

“Whatever the boss wants.”

“How lucky are we to get a Vault Hunter like this? Didn’t even have to put any effort in it.”

“Would have been fun to capture the little shit…”

Zane listened quietly. What else could he do? He did not bother to struggle as much as he wanted away from these monsters.

“I love when they struggle.”

More incentive not to struggle against his binds.

“Right? It’s really somethin’. Come on, pretty boy. Wiggle for us.”

Zane did not respond. He refused to give them the satisfaction.

“How’d it feel to get sold out by your friends, pretty boy?” one asked as a kick to his side made the operative jump.

“We’ll be better friends,” laughter erupted in the technical.

“I can’t wait to see what the boss has in store for you. He’s always dreamed of breaking a Vault Hunter.”

“Lucky guy, he is!”

“Lucky we all are!” 

Cheers of joy.

///

The smell was horrid. It smelled of blood and rot. Human rot. 

Zane was still blindfolded, bound and gagged. Now he was being dragged by his feet into what he assumed was the bandit encampment. He could only imagine the horror of it all. 

The bandits chattered amongst themselves. The operative tried to listen in, but their conversations did not make much sense. Must have been psychos. He caught something about a dancer’s show and a meat song. Whatever that meant.

“Drop him here,” the voice of the leader of the posse spoke. 

Zane’s legs were released and he was left laying on the ground. He grunted.

“Zane, are you listening?” the man asked.

The operative huffed loudly.

“You better be,” the bandit threatened, “I’m going to untie you. If you try anything, well. You know.”

A grunt.

Zane was sat up by the bandit and soon the blindfold was removed. He was in what looked to be an arena of sorts.

There he was, that same muscular maniac. Zane glared at him, thinking about how he absolutely would try something. 

The tape was pulled from his mouth slowly, pulling at his mustache hard. The operative winced as he was torn from his face and the cloth was pulled from his mouth. He coughed, spitting in disgust. 

“That must be a relief, huh?” the bandit laughed, taking his knife and working at the tape binding the operative’s chest.

Zane just kept glaring, not responding. 

“Come on, Zane. I’ve heard all the stories of what a loudmouth you are,” the bandit moved to his legs, skipping over his wrists for now.

The operative did not respond.

“Not gonna talk to me?” the muscular man looked up and frowned before swinging the blade towards his captive’s face, “You got some terrible manners.” 

“Feck off,” Zane finally hissed. 

“Not really the nicest thing to say to a guy who’s got a knife,” the bandit smirked, pondering for a moment.

Zane spat in the man’s face. 

“Oh you little…” the muscular man sighed, wiping the saliva from his face. 

The bandit took the knife and slashed it across Zane’s face. Instantly the blood came pouring from the wound from his cheeks to the bridge of his nose. 

Zane hissed, pulling his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shite!” the operative beared his teeth, opening his eyes to glare through a grimace.

The bandit nodded towards the pyschos who dragged Zane into the arena.

“Yes!” one shouted, “I’m going to scream!”

And then, the screaming as the bandits walked away. 

“You’re going to show me and the fellas a little respect, do you understand?” the boss spoke.

Zane glared up at his captor, “What’s your plans for me then?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”


End file.
